Author's Note: Just a reminder that this is not an original idea. I adopted this from Mitsukini Haninozuka who in turn got it from TheBlackSeaReaper. This is my first story, as well, so any feedback would be very much appreciated. Let me know what you think, please!

Chapter Four

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Two weeks had gone by since Jūshiro visited Diagon Alley. He had had time to process his newfound fame, the truth behind his parents' death and the knowledge of yet another hidden world. He wondered how it was kept hidden. If the people he had seen in Diagon Alley were any example, then he doubted that they could blend in well enough in the wider world. Maybe they had some sort of device, or spell, that changed memories like the soul society had? Something to consider, at least, he wanted to know if there were limitations and how to guard against the unscrupulous.

Jūshiro had also decided to simply ignore his fame, if it ever came up. He wasn't comfortable with the reasons behind it but given the mob that had descended before he entered Diagon Alley, he doubted he could do anything about it. The public probably had some sort of image of him (the Harry Potter adventure books at Flourish and Blotts were terrifying to see) and he could do little to change their minds. He refused, however, to change himself to match their image of who Harry Potter should be and that was one thing that he would never bend on.

The truth of his parents' death had been a surprise. The Dursley's had refused to talk about them, so all he had known was that they were dead. It hadn't been a priority to find out, so Jūshiro hadn't pushed. At least, he now knew the truth as well as just why the elder Dursley's couldn't stand him - magic. Their interactions since the great reveal had been even more frosty than usual. Jūshiro just counted himself lucky that they hadn't kicked him out entirely and mostly avoided him instead. It did however, make him wonder once again just why they kept a child they hated.

His cousin, Dudley, on the other hand was ecstatic and so very excited for him. He had borrowed just about all Jūshiro's new books by now, eager to learn all he could about magic although he couldn't use it. He wanted to know what Jūshiro would eventually be able to do. He had also shared with Jūshiro his hope that the magical world would finally have the cure for his disease.

Presently, he was lying in bed, recovering from one of his coughing fits and reading the books bought during his trip to Diagon Ally. He was reading one of his school books for charms, having fun learning what sort of spells the first years were expected to learn. At first, he had compared magic to the Kido that was taught in Soul Society, a discipline in which he was very skilled, but had soon realized that magic as these people understood it was a far more flexible and occasionally convenient energy.

So absorbed in his reading, it took Jūshiro a moment to realize that he was feeling some very familiar soul-signatures nearby. He wondered what that particular group was doing here, for he had not felt any hollows nearby, nor indeed anything that might have required the attention of the three strongest captains in Soul Society. The signatures he felt nearby in the neighborhood were that of Shunsui Kyouraku, Retsu Unohana and Genryusai Yamamoto. Before the war just over a decade before, the war in which he had died, Captain-Commander Yamamoto had not left the Soul Society for centuries.

'It can't be… Could they be here for me? They have no way of knowing whether I remember anything…'

Much to his surprise, the signatures continued up the road, stopping just before the Dursleys' home. Taking a moment to be thankful that Vernon had taken the rest of the family on an outing to London for the day, Jūshiro climbed out of bed. Peeking out his window, Jūshiro confirmed that they really were coming up the walk. They had come for him, regardless of memories. He took a moment to just take in their appearance, grateful that they were alive and well. He had died after all, in the middle of a war, and he had no idea what happened after his death. He had tried not to think on it too much, knowing he would just worry himself into an early grave since he had no way of checking up on them.

Jūshiro shook himself out of his memories, noticing that they had almost made it to the porch. Composing himself, Jūshiro made his way down the stairs. He had just made it when the doorbell rang.

(In Soul Society)

[Shunsui's POV]

It had been a long two weeks. After Yama-jii had dropped the bombshell about Jūshiro's soul-signature showing up on the sensors and announced his intention to hunt down the reincarnation of my brother, I had been wandering about in a daze. It wasn't real, yet, not really. I probably wouldn't be able to believe it completely until I could feel the presence of my brother again. He wouldn't be the same, but the soul would be there. Maybe it would be enough and I could finally move on?

I had spent a long decade, trying to adjust to the death of my brother - to his absence in our lives. We all felt guilty - should have been faster, stronger, better!... - and none of us could bring ourselves to blame another. Those present at the fateful battle had all been busy, we had all been fighting our own opponents, and there had been no indication that Aizen would do anything but watch as we struggled against his forces. He had seemed content to watch and wait behind the flames as the Arrancar fought us. We were wrong. And Jūshiro paid the price.

I had to watch as the light faded from his eyes, unable to help, occupied as I was with the Primera Espada, Starrk. Turning as I dealt the final blow to the Arrancar, I was just in time to see Aizen escape the flames. Just in time to see him skewer the already gravely injured form of my brother. Just in time to see him fall.

The weeks after the news had been akin to torture. I wanted to see him, needed to see him. We had meant to set out in only a couple of days, but the Captain-Commander along with two of the strongest remaining captains couldn't leave on such short notice, no matter how much we wished we could. For one thing, the usual limiters would not work and ones suitable for our strength had to be made. Then, we had to set up our respective seconds-in-command well enough that they could handle our absence for a week or two. That alone required enough paperwork to last the next several months. Yama-jii had to reassure everyone that they could, in fact, handle his absence. His lack of vacation over the centuries meant that for all but the old guard he had always been there. Those of us that counted as the old guard remembered the times that he had taken for himself, and so could deal.

When we finally pulled the Soul Society together enough and finished our preparations, it had been two weeks instead of two days. Gathering near the main Senkaimon, we rechecked that we had what we needed: the coordinates of the Soul-signature and the standard gear of any Shinigami out on patrol (limiters, communications, memory modifiers…). Finally, we could leave. I urged Yama-jii to hurry and open the Senkaimon, anxious to get on our way. He did so, and we stepped out into the space between the worlds. He must have been as eager as I, for we ended up flash-stepping through.

When we emerged on the other side, we found ourselves in an English neighborhood. We were near a park, but there were few children in it. We had arrived at noon, as we had intended. Our usual dealings were with Japan, so we had synced our time with that country many years ago. For this trip, we had to time ourselves carefully so that we didn't arrive at an odd hour.

Stretching our senses, we finally found it - the presence of Jūshiro. Heading toward it, we saw a row of houses that were nearly identical, and all very well cared for. The house that Jūshiro was in seemed to have the best front yard on the street, almost professional in its appearance. Glancing up as we neared the door, I noticed movement in one of the windows. Turning my attention forward, I looked on as Yama-jii rang the doorbell, fairly bouncing on my heels with anticipation.

After a moment, the door opened. Slowly, oh so slowly it seemed, when a head popped out into view from behind it. It was Jūshiro. Or rather, it was the new body housing my brother's soul. He was young, it was the first thing I noticed and something that hadn't really occurred to me. He had only died a decade or so before, so it made sense, but I had grown up with the previous version of Jūshiro. I had become used to thinking of my brother as an adult, so seeing him as a child was shocking. He was a small boy, with long black hair and startling green eyes hidden behind large glasses. There was a large angry looking scar on his forehead, something that scared me since he had already found himself in danger, but what caught my immediate worry was how run down he looked. At that age, a human child should be full of unending energy not holding himself gingerly and calmly standing there, waiting to be acknowledged. Something was wrong. But what?

[Yamamoto's POV]

Yamamoto was tired. His many centuries of life had given him great patience, but the duties of the head captain of the Seireitei were many. He had been in power so long that he had watched several generations of captains cycle through the squads. Unfortunately, this meant that he had become an immortal figure to these younger Shinigami. He had not taken a vacation of any length in so long, that the newest generations had no idea how to handle themselves without the safety net of his presence. Something he decided that he would rectify at some point in the near future. However, this meant that the preparations for his absence dragged on. What should have taken only a couple of days ended up taking a couple of weeks. The paperwork had been the least of his worries, still, it was time. He and his companions had finished what they needed and so they convened at the Senkaimon, the gates to the passageway between worlds.

Yamamoto looked over his companions, noting the tells in their bearings, signs showing their worry and suppressed hope to those who knew how to read them. He, too, was anxious. They had no idea what sort of situation they would be going into, after all. It was unlikely to be anything dangerous, but with the presence of a former captain in the area hollows were a valid concern. He refused to acknowledge the other worry, that his missing son would not remember them or even see them and that this trip was for naught.

Yamamoto was amused by the restless shifting of his other son, Shunsui. It was good to see him showing emotions. With how poorly he had dealt with Jūshiro's death, Yamamoto had been worried for him. 'I can only hope this mission goes well, if only for his sake.' He refused to contemplate the alternative.

At Shunsui's urging, Yamamoto reached out and opened the Senkaimon. Stepping into the space between worlds, he gave in to his nervous energy and flash stepped through, trusting that Retsu and Shunsui would keep pace as he rushed to the other side.

[Unohana's POV]

Although she wouldn't admit it to anyone who asked, Retsu was worried.

She had spent several millennia tending to Jūshiro, plenty of time to have become good friends with him. He was old enough to know of her own sordid past, and in turn she was old enough to have been present when he needed to show his resolve as a member of the Gotei 13. They, all of them, had parts of their past they weren't proud of. Pieces of themselves that the younger generations simply didn't know about.

When she decided to leave her past behind her, she had resolved to do what she could as a healer for the inhabitants of the Seireitei. Despite her many medical triumphs, however, Jūshiro's illness had fought her at every turn. She had managed to mitigate his symptoms over the years, reducing the length and frequency of his coughing fits. Still, it had bothered her that she could not do more for him.

She had watched the Seireitei in the wake of his death, unable once more to help. Wounds brought about by loss were not something so simply fixed. And it was far more difficult when the healer themselves were suffering the same loss. He was a confidant of hers, they had had weekly meetings over tea where they would sit and talk and complain about their daily lives. It had calmed the two of them, this friendship, and she had suffered for the loss of it. It had not mattered that it was never more than friendship. They had long ago decided that anything more was not a direction they were interested in with the other.

This trip to the living world to check on Jūshiro's reincarnation was cause for great worry in her opinion. She knew just how likely it was that his reincarnation would remember them at all, and she dreaded the reactions of the captain-commander and Shunsui should that turn out to be the case. For all that she had suffered the loss of a dear friend, they had lost a brother or son, and the loss of a family member never truly faded.

As they approached the Senkaimon, Retsu steeled herself, aware that should the worst happen, she would need to steer the two men back to the Seireitei – likely against their own wishes. Retsu found her worries validated when even the captain-commander could not wait the short walk to the other side of the path, and instead flash-stepped through the Senkaimon.

[Yamamoto's POV]

Arriving in England with little fanfare, Yamamoto was relived to see that they had timed their trip well. While arranging the trip he had had to take into account the significant time difference between the two locales.

When he had founded the Seireitei all those years ago, he had chosen to sync its time with the location of the jūreichi – a location where the earth's own spiritual energy poured forth, calling multitudes of stronger hollows and creating the highest concentration of spiritual beings in the human world.

For most of the time since the founding of Soul Society, the jūreichi had resided in Japan, meaning that the Soul Society had likewise been based on their time and relatively closer to that area of the living world. This meant that even though travelling through a Senkaimon by definition meant crossing both time and space, it was in fact a shorter distance to Japan than the rest of the world. Being able to mobilize quickly had been invaluable over the years, not the least of which during the latest mess with the traitorous captains led by Aizen.

Upon reaching Surrey, Yamamoto was pleased to note that they had arrived at midday like he had intended, reasoning that the summer months and time of day would mean that most were home eating lunch. He had chosen this time for the smaller amount of people that would be out and about, while still being within the polite calling hours. If the group had to deal with the new family of his son, then Yamamoto would rather ensure that there were no unfortunate first impressions.

Stretching out his senses, Yamamoto oriented himself in the direction of his wayward son's soul-signature, pleased to find it nearby. Glancing at his companions to see if they had also found the soul-signature, he set off in its direction.

As they drew closer, Yamamoto noted that they were passing into a neighborhood of bland and nearly identical houses. A typical neighborhood, to be sure, but it had a stressed feel to it. It seemed to lack something, something that he couldn't quite grasp. This feeling of not quite unease grew as he noticed that the yards were all cared for most stringently, not a bush or tree out of place. Not a single plant was allowed to hang over the sidewalk or into another yard.

(Little Whinging)

[Jūshiro's POV]

Staring at the door, the only thing separating him from his father-figure, brother and long-time friend, Jūshiro was torn. He wanted, oh how he wanted, to see them again. Still, the last time he had seen them it was war. He dreaded what news they could bring. Taking a second to fortify himself, Jūshiro reached for the door.

Opening the door, Jūshiro gazed upon his family for the first time in ten years. They look tired. His first sight of them was how worn they seemed. The four of them, including himself, were very old, even by the standards of a Shinigami, but even then, only rarely would they express how tired they were. Only at the loss of great comrades and dear friends would the façade of youth falter. It occurs to Jūshiro that maybe they hadn't known that he was reborn, let alone in possession of his memories. For them, they truly had lost another member of their family. What a long decade it must have been for them.

"Captain-Commander. Captain Unohana. Shunsui. It is so very good to see you again. Please come in so that we can speak freely." Jūshiro wanted nothing more than to jump at his brother and hang on for dear life. Out-of-character it would be for him, but it had been a long decade for him, too. His life at the Dursley's had been trying despite Dudley's best efforts and he had been forced to deal with everything without the support of his family. Turning away, forcing himself to maintain his composure while privacy was not a guarantee, Jūshiro led Yamamoto, Retsu and Shunsui into the house and towards the living room.

Once they were seated, they all looked at each other. No one knew where to start. Finally, it seemed that Shunsui could take it no more. "Jūshiro, I'm sorry. So very sorry. I let you be killed. I couldn't save you from Aizen," the name was hissed with a depth of loathing that surprised me, though the thought of our positions reversed was enough to explain it, "I couldn't even save you from Starrk's companion. Forgive me, brother?" eyes averted, his voice clearly told me he blamed himself for my death. Though he had asked for forgiveness, he remained distant as if he thought I wouldn't give it, as if he thought I would condemn him for his failure. He can't…He can't truly believe I would shun him for what happened! Jūshiro couldn't believe it. During their long years of life, there had been many times that they had been injured. Sometimes almost lethally so. They had always reassured one another that these injuries were to be expected in their line of work, and that they would never be responsible for the injuries of the other when separated in battle. Long-term experience with each other's abilities meant they knew their limits and knew to respect them. What could have chang-…oh. I actually died this time. We've always pulled through before.

The silence during my thoughts were too much, it seemed. As I watched, what little expression he had been showing slowly vanished behind a mask of unfeeling.

"Dammit, Shunsui. You can't blame yourself for my death. I forgive you for thinking my illness wouldn't choose the worst moment to act up. I forgive you for knowing that the girl was well-within my abilities to deal with. I forgive you for not tracking a madman we couldn't understand during a battle he did not seem inclined to participate in. I forgive you Shunsui, for not being omniscient. I can't forgive you for my death, because you. did. Not. Cause. It!" My tirade over with, I collapsed exhausted back into my chair, having leaned forward to add strength to the diatribe. During my speech, I had watched Shunsui cringe into as small an area as he could. Finally, he looks up at meets my eyes.

"Oh Jūshiro. I've missed you so much. Nobody around to set my head straight while we thought you dead. I've been in a sorry state for a while." He says with a watery sounding chuckle and tears in his eyes. "It's good to have you back."

Understatement of the century, it seems. Shunsui didn't hold up well at all, did he. But if he was this poorly off, what of the others? I look to the two captains sitting quietly and watching our reunion. I wonder what they think of two fools such as we are. "Hello again, sir, Captain Unohana…" I trailed off, uncertain how to continue. I wanted to know how everyone was: who was hurt, who was lost and how everyone was carrying on.

"My son. You live, again. And you remember us well enough to greet us. Do you remember your past?" the Captain-Commander greeted me, his question a weighty thing between us. They had come into the Dursley's house on my welcome, but they couldn't know that I had more than fragments of memory to work with.

"I do. I remember the young dragon and his ambitions. I remember the bonds of choice forged between two younglings, still learning who they were. I remember the finding of a home with the dragon and the start of a duty and a passion for it. I remember myself as I was, before and am now. I am Jūshiro Ukitake, wielder of Sōgyo no Kotowari." Reminiscing of our younger days, all those years ago had me pensive. So few of us remained, and even I could no longer count as one who had. I had died, after all, I was just lucky enough that it was a temporary thing.

"Then I welcome you back. How have you been this past decade? Tell me of your life, we have much to share with you as well." Settling in his chair, the Captain-Commander seemed to relax for the first time in a long time. A weight had lifted from his shoulders at the knowledge that his son had been returned to him in full. One loss that had not remained so.

Jūshiro organized his thoughts knowing that he had a long afternoon ahead of him, describing his life for the past decade. Wondering what sort of news they could have, he started his story: "I was born again as an only child to a young couple by the names of James Potter and Lily Evans. I was given the name Harry Potter and I recently learned that this couple was a member of an extraordinary group of individuals. They have the ability to make use of an energy to do incredible feats, an energy they call magic…" I explained all that I had learned from my newly purchased books about magic and its capabilities. The laws of nature it seemed to break, and those it held to most stringently. I could not do much more than summarize the various branches of magic, for the introductory books that I had bought did not hold much information. Nonetheless, I gave them the impressions I had had concerning magic and my comparisons between it and kido.

"I have lived with the Dursley family for the past decade, the mother is my maternal aunt. I was not always aware of my dual life. I did not… awaken, one might say, until after my first birthday. I do not know the circumstances, but I do know that it resulted in the death of my parents. This incident from before I can remember is also responsible for the scar on my face as well, or so I can only infer, as it has been there for as long as I have been aware. The parents do not appreciate my presence, but my cousin has become a good friend during my stay."

Pausing for breath, I pondered how to say the next bit. "This society of magic users was in the middle of a war during the years surrounding my birth. There was a madman, in charge of a group of like-minded individuals that had taken to terrorizing the rest of the population. They called themselves the Death Eaters and they followed a man known as Lord Voldemort, a man referred to as You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. This man attacked and killed my parents and apparently gave me this scar.

"The magical society has very detailed ideas about what happened that night, and they have styled me as some sort a savior from on high since he disappeared after killing me parents and supposedly trying to kill me. How they would know anything about that night escapes me, but these people believe that I survived a spell of instant death at the age of one years old – and that I happened to vanquish their madmen at the same time. I am known among their community as the boy-who-lived for surviving this spell. I remember none of this and only awoke later. I do not know how much time elapsed between this incident and my arrival to the hospitality of the Dursleys'."

Wanting to give them time to process the information I had dumped on them, I stood up to head to the kitchen, intending on retrieving the makings of tea and some snacks to eat.

- Chapter End -

Author's Note: I will continue to edit the chapters as I post new ones, please check the list for the newest date to see if I have changed anything since you read it last. Please let me know if any problems or odd phrasing stand out and I will fix it as I have time. Thanks for reading!

Edit List:

-December 27, 2018